Caveat Emptor
by amaretto and coke
Summary: The reflections of Mrs. Hurst, Mr. Bingley's OTHER sister.


My brother's house is usually quiet this time of night. At least, it _was _two weeks ago before he married that greenheaded country baggage. Now I hear them very late into the dusk nearly every evening, laughing and giggling and…I'll say no more. Perhaps I only imagine that I hear them out of spite, because of the ignominy of having such a girl for my sister by force of law.

My _real _sister is several rooms down the hall. Even so, I hear her occasionally, when my husband stops snoring for a moment or two. Twice I stand to go and comfort her; twice I sit back down and stare at my gloves. If I know Caroline, she is weeping delicately into a silken handkerchief, just barely loud enough for a passing servant to hear. To me those slight sniffles are keening howls.

But I am not brave enough. I dare, I dare not, continually dancing back and forth. I feel like a leaf in a current: flimsy, insubstantial, tossed by every passing drift. Arthur turns, coughing loudly, and I glance his way, waiting until he settles down to continue brooding.

~~~~ • ~~~~

It began over five years ago, when I made my coming out in London. Everywhere I went I was admired, the eyes of men upon me and their pleased estimation making a heady cocktail that I drank of readily. I was green, raw, celebrated for my ready wit, fully accustomed to having my way in my own time. I was too clever for my own sake, allowing myself to be flattered and duped into a marriage with a rake who needed a handsome young woman on his arm to grant him respectability. I found out shortly after our nuptials, much to my dismay, that his fortune, while comfortable for a bachelor, would not allow me to live in the style that I had come to expect and relish. He, on the other hand, having no taste for racy gossip or marked contempt of others, could not enjoy conversing with me on a regular basis. Affection cooled rapidly; our existence together became perfunctory, with only the occasional physical contact. In desperation, I turned to my unwed siblings for relief, which was thankfully provided through Charles. He gladly offered to share his newly leased lodgings with me, warning me gently, however, that he would be living in Hertsfordshire, and not in Derbyshire, as both Caroline and I had long hoped for. 

It was hard for me to bear the thought of residing at my _younger_ brother's table as a married woman – it was hard indeed, but I swallowed enough pride to make regular visits, and even to bring Arthur along with me; he was, after all, a gentleman, even if he was not as well-maintained as could be desired. And so while Charles rode out to see his property with Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, my sister and I passed the time in the carriage as best we could along the road.

Charles is the youngest of us three, and has inherited the vast majority of our late father's wealth. He is easygoing, to the point of disgusting Caroline and I on many occasions. Nonetheless he is a good man and has much to offer, so we overlook his propensity towards being pleased with everything. Caroline is the middle child, and arguably the most discontent. Charles and I pale and wither away to nothing in her wake. Her wit borders on acidity, her eye constantly looking to find fault. I find myself compelled to agree with her in all situations simply for the sake of keeping peace. She stared out of the window at the rolling countryside, her lip curled in an expression of disdain.

"How dreadful," she said. "To be drawn away from London in the midst of the season for the sake of Charles fawning over these barbarians! Insufferable." She leaned on her hand as her frown deepened. "I do hope that Mr. Darcy does not take a similar leave of his senses."

"It is hardly to be expected, Caroline. The two of them could hardly be more dissimilar in temper. Mr. Darcy –" I arched my eyebrow and smiled, "- is much like yourself."

She smiled back. "Indeed he is," she murmured, her voice melting away to a breathless lilt that denoted her level of infatuation. She had invested so much time and energy into him, and as he seemed to have the same sort of cutting derision to his commentary as she, Caroline had lately begun to sincerely believe herself to be in love with him. She of course thought very well of his purse, having taken some warning from my missteps, and often mused about what she would do for herself after becoming his wife.

I did not see how the two of them would get on, myself. Although Caroline had begun to live for him, her subservience consisted solely of setting others down as meanly as possible, then slyly glancing his way for a reaction. It seemed to me that eventually he would grow weary of such behavior, and consequently tire of her, much in the way that I perceived Arthur had tired of me. 

But as she did not desire a dissenting opinion, I kept it to myself.

~~~~ • ~~~~

I finally make a decision and stand, exiting the room that I share with my husband silently. As I drift down the hall past portraiture that appears eerie by moonlight, I pass by another room that I gladly shun. Eliza Darcy can be heard through the closed door, speaking saucily to her husband. Not even in the early days of my marriage did I even conceive of keeping conversation with Arthur this late into the night. A battery of emotions strikes me: rage at her happiness with the man that my sister longed for so piteously, wrenching envy, a sickening mortification at Mr. Darcy's incomprehensible change of heart. But these are all swept away as I approach the door that I am in search of and knock quietly.

"Leave me," a voice croaks harshly. I do not answer, but clear my throat twice. The sniffling stops and light footsteps stealthily come near. The door creaks enough to allow a small beam of moonlight to enter the darkened room.

"Louisa? Why are you still awake, sister?"

"I couldn't sleep," I lie. But Caroline is satisfied, and opens the door just wide enough to admit my slim frame. I slip in. No candles are lit, but I find my way to a chaise and sit as Caroline dramatically throws herself back onto the bed. She is not disposed to speak to me immediately, since I interrupted her melancholy. But finally she looks up at me. Her eyes are bloodshot, visible even in the dim light; she has been crying for some time. "Louisa, where did I turn amiss? I was so certain of him, quite sure that he would be mine. I –" her voice cracked, she steadied it and went on – "I _knew _him. I was ever with him. He was meant to –" She stopped again, face twisting as she forced tears back down. It was a moment before she could summon strength to speak again. "Were you not there when he said that he should as soon call her a beauty as her mother, a wit?"

I was. And I was also there when he reversed himself and pronounced Eliza to be one of the most handsome women that he knew, a fact that Caroline has conveniently forgotten. But a simple nod will suffice.

Caroline's dusky eyes flash with fury as she begins to sulk out of spite. She does not need a sympathetic ear for the moment, leaving me free to turn my thoughts back towards the first time that she and I became acquainted with the ladies of Longbourn. 

~~~~ • ~~~~

The dance is dull enough. I dance with my husband and Mr. Darcy, then drift away to talk with my sister, who is alternating between utter contempt for her surroundings and a giddy sort of enjoyment. She smiles confidentially as I approach. "Louisa, did you hear Darcy just a moment ago? That brother of ours was trying to get him to dance with some young hussy, and he said that since the two of us were already dancing, he wouldn't dance with anyone else. He said," her face glowed, "it would be a _punishment _to dance with anyone in this company." She feels the compliment to herself keenly, and is nearly ecstatic. "I will have him," she says, _soto voce._ "I will have him very soon." 

We return to Netherfield, some of us significantly more satisfied than others. Charles is charmed to the point of rapture by Jane. Darcy, on the other hand, is morose, taciturn. Caroline baits him by snidely bringing up the subject of Elizabeth Bennett. "Not even the famed Eliza Bennett could tempt you, Mr. Darcy? After all, she _is_ a famed local beauty."

He snorts, not taking his eyes off the fire. "Indeed? I saw no beauty in her. I saw no beauty in the whole of that company. I should as soon consider her beautiful as find her mother witty." I burst into titters, and Caroline does likewise.

Charles comes as close to anger as ever I've seen, standing sharply and snapping at Mr. Darcy, daring him to find fault with the eldest Miss Bennett. Darcy stares back coolly before replying, "She smiles too much."

Caroline, feeling it proper to continue teasing, says, "But she is a sweet girl, is she not, Louisa?" – I nod – "I will go so far to defy you, Mr. Darcy, in saying that I should not be sorry to make her closer acquaintance."

I add in despite my better judgment. I felt strangely acrimonious towards the eldest two when we first met, although I knew of no genuine reason to feel so. If only we had known what type of disturbance they would bring, I would not have encouraged any sort of acquaintance with them, Jane's sweetness notwithstanding. But they seemed ignorant and untaught, harmless. How thoroughly we were mistaken!

~~~~ • ~~~~

An invitation for an assembly at Lucas Lodge – I could hardly keep countenance when hearing it read aloud – comes the next day, and is accepted by all. Arthur surprises me by agreeing to go despite his state of indolence. 

We arrive. Caroline takes a stroll about the room, her eyes constantly roaming back in the direction of Mr. Darcy, who is holding up the edge of the fireplace. Charles immediately goes in search of Miss Bennett and finding her, persuades her to take a spot in the dance. Arthur is currently speaking with a local magistrate, so I choose to stay seated.

The music ends presently, and as the couples separate, my sister comes my way and gives me a smile of deep satisfaction at having received some token of notice from Mr. Darcy. I return it with a slight nod, happy for her, but both of our smiles fade as William Lucas, the very image of idiocy, stops in front of us. "Ladies, I welcome you to Meryton. Your superior dancing does us all great honor. But I would expect no less from such distinguished guests. I beg pardon to make so free, but have I ever seen either of you dancing at St. James?"

Caroline is beginning to bridle at the intrusion, so I answer for her. "Sir, we but rarely attend assemblies at St. James." 

"Well," he continues, puffing with his own self-importance, "you must attend more often. Your excellent command of the dance would be highly commendable there. And if you should desire, I would be happy to make any introductions on your behalf."

Caroline is growing livid. My own cheeks are aflame, but I manage a brief gratitude. We both curtsy, and I pull my sister away before he can begin again. We rush in the direction of the nearest divan and sit down. Caroline is shaking with rage. "The impertinence! To flatter himself that we would need his assistance! And in a society that we were _born_ to, and that he merely _presumes_ to be part of! Insolent man." 

"I'm sure that he is a very good sort of man, Caroline." I take care to lace my words with sarcasm. "I'm sure that he kept a very good sort of shop _before_ his…promotion. We must have a sort of pity for people like himself, who simply don't move in a large enough circle to really _know_ any better."

She laughs, fully absorbing my meaning. Then her eyes move to the right, narrow, and become sly, fetching. She gives me an apologetic smile. "Excuse me, dear sister. I must comfort our other guest." She stands and moves in the direction of Mr. Darcy, who has held his current post for the past ten minutes. 

"Are you enjoying yourself a little more this evening, sir?" she asks, fluttering her lashes. 

He answers, but I notice that he is not looking at her; his gaze is drawn to the other side of the room, pinned on a young woman with dark hair, dark eyes and an indescribable haughtiness. I feel my lips beginning to tug downwards. It is Elizabeth Bennett – but why is Mr. Darcy so entranced? 

Arthur approaches me. "Louisa, will you dance?"

I allow him to lead me to the floor. As I take my position in the dance, I hear snatches of Caroline discoursing with Mr. Darcy.

"And whom, might I make so bold to ask, has such _fine eyes_ as to attract the gaze of Mr. Darcy?"

"Miss Eliza Bennett." His voice is steady, unperturbed. Caroline does not answer him immediately; I suppose that _her_ voice is not so controlled.

Just before the music starts, I faintly her say, with a slight edge in her tone, "Well! I am certainly astonished at your object of admiration – and when, pray tell, am I to wish you joy?"

I do not know how Mr. Darcy acquits himself, for the first strains begin, and Arthur moves towards me with a gravity that he only otherwise expresses while playing cards. I smile and meet him in the midst of the floor. Our neighbors' eyes are upon us as we circle and take our places opposite where we began. This sixth will be a good dance. Despite my better judgment, and my disappointment in our marriage, I can never quite resist Arthur when he wants to dance, and one good dance with him is enough to erase several weeks' worth of otherwise barren domestic living.

~~~~ • ~~~~

A/N: Based partially on the book and the movie, so you may find discrepancies as far as order of events. Please bring it to my attention if you see one that needs correction…otherwise enjoy. :) Feedback is always welcome.

p.s. Does anyone actually know Mr. Hurst's real name?


End file.
